


John Watson Can't be Replaced

by nosheron



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, Johnlock (Fluff), Lonely Sherlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1686560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosheron/pseuds/nosheron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock likes to talk to Billy the Skull when he gets lonely, and when John isn't there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Watson Can't be Replaced

 

   221B Baker Street was not only quieter than usual, but unnecessary shuffling was heard beyond the door to Sherlock Holmes' flat. If anyone chose that exact moment to talk to him, they would perceive him as more insane than he already was. 

   Sherlock was pacing around the flat in circles like he always did, mumbling something to himself that sounded like a foreign language to anyone but him. Sherlock's tall lean figure hunched ever so slightly as he walked uneasily, finger tips pressed together in a concentrated fashion. His eyes seem to pierce past the solid walls of the flat, like he was being watched, and being careful of what he was going to say out loud. Naturally, that was not the situation. Sherlock Holmes was only going through his routine of reciting the evidence of a case, declaring each fact aloud to hear how much of it connected with the case. He liked to sort the facts to tell whether or not they made sense. 

   Yet this time something was different. Billy the skull, who always usually sits upon the mantlepiece, was placed on Sherlock's companion, John Watson's arm chair. Billy, sitting silently, stared blankly at Sherlock as he whispered to himself. Sometimes Sherlock did this; placing Billy in John's arm chair when John wasn't there to help him collect the necessary facts. 

   "The murder was _obviously_  the wife! Just because she wasn't in the house at the time of the murdering of her husband doesn't mean that she shouldn't be suspected. But of course Lestrade has to point his accusing little finger at the brother" Sherlock snapped, pressing his hand over his forehead in plain frustration. "Now  _I'm_ suppose to have supporting evidence by Saturday or the brother will be falsely accused over something so simple an infant could do!"

   Sherlock took a heavy sigh and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "This is _such_ a boring case!" he pouted, pushing his bottom lip out. With a roll of his eyes and a dull voice, Sherlock enumerated the evidence. "The husband, Mr. Carter, was murdered at exactly 6.17 AM on Monday morning. The brother of Mr. Carter, Connor, age 18, was staying over for a visit at the time. The cops were dialed 22 minutes after the murdering, when the wife had just come home to the display of Mr Carter dead on the rug. Of course, everyone suspected the brother who was in the same house, but actually had nothing to do with it. Mrs. Carter poisoned the coffee her husband drank at 6.11 AM that morning. Why would she do this? To frame the brother to get him arrested, who Mrs. Carter finds uncivilized, and get him as far from her as possible. On top of that, carrying out her affair with that bartender who works in the pub. John, phone Lestrade and tell him it was the wife."

   "What do you think, John?" he queried, facing the skull that sat upon the chair. Billy sat there with the same blank expression he always had, that Sherlock portrayed emotions on according to his imagination. Sherlock scoffed in return "Useless," he muttered under his breath, turning his back to Billy.  With a low inhale, Sherlock shot a questioning glance at Billy, still muted. "Brilliant, Sherlock!" the detective voiced in his companion's often way of awe when Sherlock delivered a deduction. But no answer, Billy was frozen in place, far from any replacement of John. It wasn't the same. Sherlock missed the praise he got when he helped clear someone's name, or bring a criminal to justice. Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of Billy and glared at it "Talk, damn it!" he whined, gripping the arms of the chair. Still nothing. 

   Sherlock's head jerked upright when he heard the dialing of the phone. Scurrying to his feet automatically,  John stood with the phone to his ear in front of him. Sherlock's eyes widened. John Watson was there, he was here, who must have heard everything Sherlock said. "Yeah, thanks Lestrade" John said, slowly hanging up the phone and placing it down on the counter top. His gaze ran over Sherlock who hadn't moved a muscle since he saw him. "What's wrong?" John teased slightly.

   Before John could react, Sherlock's arms swung around him so tightly it knocked the wind out of the doctor's lungs. "John... I'm so glad you're back..." the taller man breathed, squeezing his eyes to hold back tears that threatened his eyes. "Well, of course I am. I've only been gone three hours" John replied awkwardly, returning the embrace with the same amount of passion.

   "I just didn't think you'd get so lonely that you would start talking to Billy" John snickered, looking up at Sherlock's expression. The detective cleared his throat, trying to suppress the redness flowing to his cheeks.

   "It was the wife" Sherlock mumbled.  

   

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing that was drafted in my notes that I decided to fix up. Sherlock is such a child in this I love it.


End file.
